


It's Been a Hard Day's Night

by iam_spock (FanficbyLee)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gift Fic, Gore, M/M, spones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficbyLee/pseuds/iam_spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and Bones in a field hospital on a very bad night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been a Hard Day's Night

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’d been working like a dog  
> It’s been a hard day’s night, I should be sleeping like a log  
> But when I get home to you I find the things that you do  
> Will make me feel alright
> 
> The Beatles

Rain hit the roof of the emergency shelter. It pinged off the reinforced plastic and rolled down the sides creating a moat of muck and mud. Inside the dirt was covered in the same plastic, as clean as such a place could be. The air was filled with the muffled groans of men and women in pain, and above the damp smell of the jungle outside I could smell the iron, copper and other elemental scents of blood. I was weary, soaked through my uniform to the bone, and I was shivering even though it was not cold inside or outside of the shelter. I shivered because I was tired.

Leonard was exhausted. I could see it in the slump of his shoulders and the growl that added timber to his voice. He’d been patching up the wounded for sixteen hours and forty-seven minutes. He was well past his rest period, but with such a small staff there was no way that I could get him to take a break. I had tried. Jim had tried. In the Federation database next to the word ‘stubborn’ would be a video of Dr. Leonard H. McCoy of the Starship Enterprise.  
“Let me help you,” I said as I made my way through the medical staff that walked from patient to patient in a daze.

“You’re not a doctor, Spock,” he said, glancing at me through his damp hair. There was a smear of crimson his cheek, and I looked closely to ensure that it was not his blood but that of a patient.

“No, but I do have freakishly long fingers as you have pointed out from time to time. I assure you that I know how to use a dermal regenerator, and if required, I can do rudimentary stitches by hand. I have had to sew Jim up on occasion when you were not with us.” He wanted to argue with me, and I wished that he had the energy to do it.

“Glad to know you picked up some talents along the way,” he said with a modicum of his usual snark in my direction. “Put on some gloves, and I’ll tell you what to do.”

I did as he told me, leaning over his arm, being careful not to block his view of the open, bleeding wound to see what he needed besides to sit down. It had been a tearing wound; jagged edges of flesh around the perimeter showed me that. The damaged skin would need to be cut away before the regenerator could be used to create new flesh to seal over the wound, but before that it needed to be cleaned and the underlying damage patched together.

“I’ve almost got it cleaned out, but the blood’s getting in the way. Swab it for me, and then hold it together while I use the regenerator on it,” he told me as I picked up some blotting material to soak up the blood.

“Yes, Doctor,” I said. It was a daunting task to assist in surgery, but I much preferred helping Leonard save lives to being out in the dark jungle with Jim bringing in the wounded and fighting the enemy. I was of course worried about him. But the oppressive weather, the constant aggressive thoughts pressing against my mind had made this shelter a welcome place—even though I could feel the pain from the wounded if I wasn’t careful about my walls. Thankfully the man on the table was unconscious and there was only a small amount of his pain and fear leaking through my walls.

“You OK, Spock?” He asked as he began to knit the torn flesh together. I kept my hands steady, holding the pieces together as needed.

“Are you?”

“Not really, but I don’t have time not to be.” He leaned against my shoulder as he worked. While I could shut out most of the patient’s thoughts and feelings, I could not shut him out. His weariness hit me like a sodden blanket—heavy, wet and a burden that had to be carried. I gasped behind the mask I’d put on with the gloves, and then sent as much of my strength as I could into the man at my side. I would not let him falter. Not when I was there to help him.

***

We were tucked into the far corner of the shelter, Leonard propped against me as he had been during the surgery. I doubted he’d remember how he got to the bench or that I’d forced him to come with me and rest. Words had been exchanged, but they always were. Glowering and the tossing about of ranks, and then he’d finally given into my logic and let me take him away from the wounded.

“You are a stubborn, son of a bitch, Spock,” he said with a grumble as he started awake.

“Yes, Doctor, as are you.” I curled my fingers around his wrist when he made a move to get up. “Stay. You have not rested long enough.”

“Says you.” He stopped fighting. He also didn’t pull away from my touch or my side. “There are so many of them. This has to stop.”

“I know, Leonard.” I turned to let him see that I shared his feelings on the matter in my eyes. “I know.”


End file.
